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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29888682">Frame of Reference</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/bigblueboxat221b/pseuds/OneBlueUmbrella'>OneBlueUmbrella (bigblueboxat221b)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes &amp; Related Fandoms</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Developing Relationship, M/M, Mycroft Being Mycroft, Mycroft Holmes Has Feelings, Mycroft Trying To Be Impressive, POV Mycroft Holmes</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 17:07:08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,664</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29888682</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/bigblueboxat221b/pseuds/OneBlueUmbrella</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Happy (slightly belated) birthday to the lovely 221b_hound, who writes wonderful stories and makes my day brighter with her words and jewellery. A small gift for your enjoyment!</p><p>Title courtesy of Einstein. In the Special Theory of Relativity, Einstein determined that time is relative--in other words, the rate at which time passes depends on your frame of reference.</p><p>Inspired by a prompt from Paialovespie.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>121</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Frame of Reference</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/221b_hound/gifts">221b_hound</a>.</li>



    </ul></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The quiet burble of tea filling the bone china cup he favoured always helped Mycroft focus. The moment always stretched out, time slowing exactly as Einstein predicted. He only ever set a proper tea tray when his mother was visiting (rare) or when he had a personal issue to contemplate. The process itself was calming, but it wasn’t until he was sitting, hand painted roses bearing delicately scented Assam that his mind truly began to work.</p><p>Accepting his fascination with the Detective Inspector was the first step, of which Mycroft had only taken recently. When he once again found a reason to drive all the way out to Croydon on a simple domestic murder, there was no way around it. Now, a difficult path was laid ahead, hence his care setting the tea tray.</p><p>What to do about it?</p><p>With no intimate history to speaking of, Mycroft was at a loss of how to indicate his preference for Gregory. Speaking his mind was out of the question, as was committing any decisive words to paper or electronic mail. Ideally, Gregory would be made aware of Mycroft’s interest without any indication from Mycroft himself, thus allowing Gregory to ignore or accept the unspoken offer in his own time. Crucially, this option would allow Mycroft to avoid the awkwardness that would inevitably occur should such interest be unidirectional.</p><p>Carefully raising the teacup to his lips, Mycroft considered his options. Clearly his personal offerings were few and hardly likely to induce interest; he would need to use the other tools at his disposal, was he to appear attractive. Primarily, those tools were money and power. Long experience told him both were suitable for enticing people, in both a professional and personal capacity. Some individuals might prefer something on a more personal note, but Mycroft had long ago accepted he lacked anything desirable in that department.</p><p>With a nod and the gentle clink of teacup on saucer, the decision was made.</p><p>He would woo Gregory Lestrade with the two main weapons at his disposal: money and power.</p><p>+++</p><p>Few phone calls made Mycroft hesitate to answer; his mother and certain foreign dignitaries populated the list. Today though, it took an extra three rings before he picked up his personal phone for a local number. Somehow the time between rings was longer than usual, as though subsequent rings might be postponed should he wish it fervently enough.</p><p>
  <em>Such a foolish idea, to begin this campaign…and yet now inescapable.</em>
</p><p>“Good evening,” Mycroft began, anticipating some kind of ill-prepared thanks from Gregory.</p><p>“What the hell, Mycroft?”</p><p>“I beg your pardon?” Mycroft replied. The question had taken him entirely by surprise, so in that respect it was fortunate Gregory continued to speak.</p><p>“You broke into my house and replaced my fridge!”</p><p>Mycroft blinked. “It was not operating at an optimal temperature range,” he replied. Surely Gregory would prefer to avoid food poisoning?</p><p>“And how did you know that, Mycroft?” Gregory asked.</p><p>Mycroft hesitated again, a seething anger barely restrained in Gregory’s voice. “The personnel I sent to your flat are very discreet.”</p><p>“They are also very trespassing when they let themselves in without my permission!”</p><p>“In our last conversation you indicated that finding time to cook nutritionally balanced meals was difficult,” Mycroft said. “I merely ensured your refrigerator and freezer contained enough options to alleviate that concern.”</p><p>He could hear Gregory breathing deeply, and though Mycroft wanted to explain he was still not entirely sure where the problem lay. Clearly there was some kind of problem; he suspected there was some kind of social norm he had unwittingly overstepped.</p><p>“I was making conversation, Mycroft,” Gregory bit out, the words hardly making it past his gritted teeth. “Not fishing for someone to provide me with meals!”</p><p>“Shall I cancel your ongoing order?” Mycroft asked.</p><p>“Ongoing…yes, thanks, that’s be great,” Gregory bit out.</p><p>“My apologies,” Mycroft murmured. He could feel his brow pulling together, and couldn’t resist adding, “Might I ask, what would be the appropriate level of assistance to offer in such a situation?”</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“I was attempting to ease your burden,” Mycroft said. “If this effort was excessive, what might I have offered that would have been a more appropriate level of aid?”</p><p>“You could have suggested a meal service,” Gregory said. “Or, I dunno, some recipes, or an easy meal you like to cook or something.”</p><p>Mycroft nodded. He couldn’t see how that would be more helpful that nutritionally balanced meals arriving with no effort on your behalf, especially if they were stored in a much more functional appliance, but he must be guided by Gregory.</p><p>“Very well,” he said. “Please accept my apology on this matter.”</p><p>“Yeah,” Gregory replied. “See ya.”</p><p>“Good evening,” Mycroft replied, though he suspected most of his farewell was met by dead air. How remarkable, that his clear demonstration of both money and power were rejected in favour of something as futile as making a suggestion and expecting Gregory to act upon it, should he see fit. It appeared that the breach of personal space was also an issue. In future he must direct all deliveries to at Scotland Yard, ensuring Gregory’s flat remained inviolate.</p><p>+++</p><p>Without looking, Mycroft answered his phone. He assumed it would be Sherlock, given the recent shenanigans out in Oxford; his brother hardly required all his attention.</p><p>He would be wrong.</p><p>“Mycroft,” Gregory greeted him, and something in his tone told Mycroft they were going to have another of those conversations.</p><p>“Good afternoon,” Mycroft said, keeping his tone carefully neutral. “How are you, Detective Inspector?”</p><p>“I’d say fine, except that I’m all the way out here in Oxfordshire with not one but two very pissed off local coppers, not to mention the rest of the town, and a detective and a doctor who refuse to speak to me.”</p><p>Mycroft frowned. “Surely there is not an issue?”</p><p>“With the accommodation?” Gregory said. “I’d say so, Mycroft.”</p><p>Mycroft sighed, marking his place. He couldn’t continue to read in Arabic and also have this conversation. “I made no foray into your personal affairs,” he said. “You are in Oxfordshire on professional matter, are you not?”</p><p>“Yeah,” Gregory replied. “Imagine my surprise when I realised I’d been upgraded to the best suite in the next town over, all expenses paid!”</p><p>“Is it not to your liking?” Mycroft inquired. Personal taste was not something he’d considered, though small towns did tend towards ye olde country taste in alarmingly high numbers.</p><p>“Whether I like it or not is hardly the point!” Gregory retorted. “Sherlock and John are annoyed their rooms are so much smaller, and the local coppers are sore because I was meant to be staying in the bed and breakfast run by their family.”</p><p>“Surely this is nicer?” Mycroft ventured. There was some kind of assumed knowledge here he was missing, and the experience was uncomfortable and unfamiliar. He glanced longingly at the document he had been reading.</p><p>“I don’t care about nicer, I care about keeping the locals on side!” Gregory hissed. “And now basically the whole town thinks I’m up myself because I’m staying in Huntington-on-Ogden instead of Huntingdown, plus there’s a town car taking me around!”</p><p>“How else would you travel from Huntington-on-Ogden to Huntingdown?” Mycroft asked. “It’s over ten miles, Detective Inspector.”</p><p>“Yes, and I would have been supporting their local businesses by staying here,” Gregory replied. “I wouldn’t have needed a bloody town car ferrying me around!”</p><p>“And this is an issue,” Mycroft said, hoping to clarify.</p><p>“Yes it’s a bloody issue!” Gregory snapped. “I don’t know what you’re doing, Mycroft, but stop ‘helping’! Especially when my job is concerned!”</p><p>“My deepest apologies,” Mycroft offered, but Gregory was rung off before he’d finished.</p><p>The problem was running around in his head as he placed the phone back on his desk. Clearly, Mycroft had overstepped the mark again. While he’d refrained from entering Gregory’s personal space, his intrusion into this work matter, while well intentioned, had caused further issues. The key appeared to be consent. Gregory needed to be a willing participant in the scenario before he would be prepared to see the demonstration of Mycroft’s power and money in a positive light.</p><p>Mycroft nodded to himself. It was very much trial and error, but he felt he was making progress.</p><p>+++</p><p>“I hope we’re going somewhere good,” Gregory groaned as he slid into the back of the car. “It’s been a bloody long day.”</p><p>“With your consent,” Mycroft replied, “we will stop briefly at an establishment to provide you with appropriate attire for our destination.”</p><p>“Appropriate attire?” Gregory repeated. “Jesus, I was kidding.”</p><p>“If you would prefer not to,” Mycroft began, but Gregory cut across him.</p><p>“Sure, fine,” he said. “Just don’t talk to me until we get there, okay? Need a few minutes to decompress.”</p><p>“Certainly,” Mycroft said. He looked out the window. At least Gregory had not stopped the car and left. It was a win, if a small one. He was intensely aware of Gregory’s presence, and the fifteen minute trip slid by faster than he could remember.</p><p>
  <em>This campaign with Gregory is certainly making me far more aware of Einstein’s theories regarding time.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Interesting.</em>
</p><p>“Seriously?” Gregory asked, when they stopped at Quentin’s.</p><p>“Indeed,” Mycroft replied, setting aside relativity for the moment. “Quentin put aside other tasks to complete this for me when we confirmed our booking for this evening.”</p><p>Gregory nodded, and Mycroft wondered if he’d realised how few people Quentin would do that for. Either way, he followed Mycroft in, allowing himself to be clothed in a frankly breath-taking suit, complete with shirt, shoes and accoutrements.</p><p>“Is this really necessary?” Gregory asked, fiddling with a cufflink.</p><p>Quentin was murmuring to Mycroft in French, begging for the opportunity to make some alternations to the suit he’d prepared based on Mycroft’s estimations of Gregory’s proportions. Mycroft gently denied his pleas, assuring him when Gregory was coming here regularly, he’d have all the time he needed, but not for tonight.</p><p>“It is,” Mycroft replied. “Thank you, Quentin. The Detective Inspector will fit in superbly.”</p><p>“Yeah, thanks,” Gregory said. He looked unsure, but followed Mycroft back to the car. “Where exactly are we going, Mycroft?”</p><p>“Her Majesty has consented to hosting a small group this evening,” Mycroft told him. “She was most accommodating when I accepted the plus one I usually decline.”</p><p>He was watching Gregory’s face closely, anxious to determine exactly how he reacted.</p><p>“We’re having dinner with the Queen?” Gregory whispered. To Mycroft’s alarm, the colour drained from his face.</p><p>“Yes,” Mycroft said simply.</p><p>Gregory’s mouth opened and closed a few times before he pressed his lips together and nodded once. Mycroft was too experienced to allow an unexpected expression to give away his internal concerns, but he was not sure how to interpret this response. Gregory was staring out of the window now, anxiety radiating off him. It was tinged with something else; anger, perhaps? Mycroft couldn’t figure out why anyone would be angry with the situation. Gregory had agreed to accompany him to dinner; he’d agreed to stop and change his attire. Surely the fact that they would be dining at Buckingham Palace was exciting? Mycroft was fairly sure surprises were socially acceptable, especially if they involved something exclusive or impressive that would otherwise be unavailable to the recipient.</p><p>The night progressed smoothly, though Gregory was never entirely relaxed; Mycroft watched him intently, introducing him to several individuals that would benefit his career, should he chose to take advantage of the connection. By the time the evening concluded, Gregory was barely able to meet Mycroft’s eyes, and he muttered a quick farewell as he exited the car.</p><p>Mycroft held in the frustrated sigh that threatened as the car continued towards his home. No matter how hard he tried, Gregory did not appear to be impressed by his demonstrations. He must find something more. Fortunately, the calendar was kind to Mycroft, and there was one further opportunity in the very near future.</p><p>+++</p><p>Choosing his suit with care, Mycroft found his fingers shaking as he tried to fix his cufflinks in place. A long hour last night drinking tea had allowed him to fully accept the conclusion to which he had slowly crept towards in his endeavours with Gregory.</p><p>This would be his last attempt.</p><p>Of all the events he’d organised in this soon-to-be-considered-futile trial, this was the one in which Mycroft was least confident. As he’d eased into the second cup of tea, an idea had occurred to him. While he’d worked hard to provide something by which Gregory would be impressed, he had also been conscious of keeping a level of division between the action and himself. Only their meal at Buckingham Palace had included his presence, though it had been a failure, he’d taken in far more information from Gregory in person than his responses over the phone. If this was to be his last roll of the dice, so to speak, he wanted to be close enough to read all possible information from Gregory.</p><p>And if he sat quietly enough, the small voice in the back of his mind was audible.</p><p>
  <em>This may be the final time Gregory consents to meet with you.</em>
</p><p>A terrible thought indeed, but Mycroft would not allow himself to dwell on the possibility.</p><p>Instead, he mentally reviewed the logistics of the evening before donning his coat and scarf. Part of him felt like a man proceeding to his own execution. His car collected him at the appointed time and he tried to distract himself as the car continued to his club. Should Gregory be amenable, he would arrive half an hour after Mycroft; the time would be interminable but the buffer was essential to avoid an awkward meeting in the foyer or worse, on the street.</p><p>The minutes passed slowly, and Mycroft’s mind strayed to Einstein again, as it so often lately. He pondered some of Einstein’s theories until a discreet knock at the door told him Gregory had arrived.</p><p>Mycroft crossed the room, opening the door and smiling automatically as Gregory stepped through. He hoped it appeared sincere enough; his nerves were jangling and there was a dream-like quality to the space.</p><p>“Hi,” Gregory said. He’d been to the Club before, but never this room. “Wow. Is this your office?”</p><p>“A space for my personal use,” Mycroft replied, closing the door. “Might I offer you a drink?”</p><p>“Yeah,” Gregory said. He started to peel off the layers of outerwear, hanging his coat and tucking gloves and scarf in its pockets before turning back to Mycroft. His shirt was nicer than most of those Mycroft was familiar with; the colour set off his colouring well. “Thanks.”</p><p>Mycroft raised his champagne, watching as Gregory did the same. He really was a remarkably attractive man, Mycroft thought with a pang of pre-emptive loss. He would be a notable absence from Mycroft’s life.</p><p>“Champagne,” Gregory said. “What’s the occasion?”</p><p>Mycroft raised one eyebrow. “Surely you are aware of the date, Gregory?”</p><p>It took less than a second for Gregory to realise what Mycroft meant, his face opening in a grin Mycroft would have described as delighted, had he dared. “You know it’s my birthday?”</p><p>“I do,” Mycroft replied. “Many happy returns to you.”</p><p>Gregory didn’t reply for a moment, his eyes searching Mycroft’s. “Thanks,” he said, drinking again. “Hey, is that food? I’m starving.”</p><p>“Yes,” Mycroft said, cursing his poor manners. He really would have to stop cataloguing ever flicker of Gregory’s expression and concentrate. “I believe you mentioned a fondness for loimulohi.”</p><p>Gregory’s mouth dropped open. “No way. How did you get hold of…don’t tell me you actually got someone to smoke that?”</p><p>Mycroft shrugged, disconcerted by Gregory’s reaction. “A contact at the Finnish Embassy,” he replied as Gregory tried some of the smoked fish. “She assured me this was the finest example available in London.”</p><p>“Oh my God, it’s as good as I remember,” Greg said, eyes flickering to Mycroft. “Thank you. That’s…I mean, wow. I can’t believe you remembered that and managed to get some down here in London.”</p><p>The response was exactly as Mycroft had imagined Gregory responding to the new refrigerator and meals. Interesting.</p><p>“It has been a while since you’ve found time to visit Finland?” Mycroft ventured, seating himself opposite Gregory.</p><p>“Yeah,” Gregory replied.</p><p>Their conversation continued without the awkward silences Mycroft anticipated. Gregory was far more relaxed than Mycroft ever dreamed he might be, his eyes warm as they talked about travel and touched on their childhood holidays. Only a discreet knock at the door interrupted their conversation.</p><p>“Our meal,” Mycroft murmured. “If you wouldn’t mind relocating to the dining table?”</p><p>“Sure,” Gregory said.</p><p>The waiters entered, one preparing their napkins and pouring the wine once Mycroft approved the bottle. The second waiter collected the remains of their appetisers while a third concentrated on serving the meal Mycroft had ordered. He was fairly sure the chef read the order more than once; as it was, his heart fluttered before the cloches were removed.</p><p>“Eel pies and mash as requested, sir,” the waiter murmured, before the whole crew disappeared, closing the door behind them.</p><p>“Eel pies,” Greg whispered, staring at his plate. “And is that…”</p><p>“Mushy peas, yes,” Mycroft told him. “Regional variations notwithstanding, this should be an excellent example of the dish.”</p><p>Manners dictated Mycroft wait for Gregory to pick up his cutlery first, so he waited, hands folded in his lap. The first prickle of anxiety crept up the side of his neck, and it took all his fingers gripping each other for the three seconds Gregory looked up and met his eyes before speaking.</p><p>“Thanks.”</p><p>“You’re welcome,” Mycroft replied, his voice matching Gregory’s whisper. Why were they whispering? His own throat was tight, the words barely escaping as though the pressure of Gregory’s eyes on his compressed his very tissues.</p><p>Their conversation picked up again, Gregory offering memories of eel pies from his childhood. Mycroft had heard Gregory reminisce about these pies only once, and from the enthusiasm with which he ate his meal, this was close enough to bring back memories. Mycroft relaxed, and before he realised they were both finished. Relativity indeed, he thought, tipping his proverbial hat to Einstein.</p><p>“That was amazing,” Gregory said. “Been years since I’ve had an eel pie.”</p><p>“I’m pleased you enjoyed it,” Mycroft replied. Before his courage could fail him, he rose, taking a small box from the mantle and placing it beside Gregory’s place. “I came across this recently and thought it might make an apt gift.”</p><p>Gregory smiled, his disbelief clear. “Seriously?” he said, though one hand closed over the ribbon. “As if the rest of this isn’t enough.”</p><p>Mycroft blinked, tucking that away for future dissection. The rest of this evening was considered a gift? How remarkable. He pulled his gaze back to Gregory, who was about to lift the lid on the box. When his eyes settled on the contents, Mycroft realised he was holding his breath.</p><p>“What…where did you find this?”</p><p>Gregory lifted the book out of the box, glancing up only briefly before he looked back at the cover, one hand touching it as though to check it was real. “<em>The Memoirs of Moominpappa</em>.”</p><p>Mycroft hesitated. It was a blatant lie, but one he was prepared to adhere to should Gregory not accept the truth.</p><p>“Several antique bookdealers have been actively seeking it on my behalf,” Mycroft admitted. He wasn’t sure the words would actually come out until they sat in the air between Gregory and himself. “Unfortunately it is not an original edition, however it is the best example available.”</p><p>“Why?” Gregory whispered.</p><p>“Two owe me favours, the others worked on promise of commission,” Mycroft said.</p><p>“Yes, but why?” Gregory pressed, replacing the book in its gift box without breaking eye contact with Mycroft.</p><p>“Why?” Mycroft repeated.</p><p>“Why have you been getting people to look for this book?” Gregory asked.</p><p>“Because you wanted a copy,” Mycroft said. “Your father’s was lost, as I understand.”</p><p>“Right,” Gregory said. “So you do this kind of thing all the time?”</p><p>“I…no,” Mycroft admitted.</p><p>“So why me?” Gregory asked, and it was both a relief and a nightmare to have him finally voice the question.</p><p>This was the moment Mycroft had both yearned for and dreaded. He drew a deep breath, shaping the words carefully in his mind before speaking.</p><p>“I find myself fascinated by you,” Mycroft said.</p><p>Gregory’s reaction was immediate. His eyebrows rose, mouth dropped open, and for a horrifying second, Mycroft thought he might laugh.</p><p>
  <em>Longest second of my life…</em>
</p><p>“So you’ve been…what have you been doing?” Gregory asked. “The last few weeks…what’re all these things about?”</p><p>Mycroft swallowed. “Attempting to ease your way,” he said.</p><p>“By breaking into my house and replacing my fridge?” Gregory asked, clearly confused.</p><p>“By using my…position and personal wealth to solve problems,” Mycroft said. His face was burning, the words scalding his throat as he forced them out. The humiliation was as scarifying as he’d dreaded, and now there was nothing but to endure it until he could erase all memory of it from his brain.</p><p>
  <em>A new benchmark so soon after the previous; <strong>this</strong> is the longest second of my life…</em>
</p><p>Opening eyes he didn’t realised he’d closed, Mycroft focused on Gregory. His expression was thoughtful, eyes slightly narrowed, and to Mycroft’s astonishment, a slight smile played around his mouth.</p><p>“What?” Mycroft blurted, the clumsy question hardly polite, yet the single word was enough.</p><p>Gregory’s smile widened. “Mycroft Holmes,” he said, “were you trying to show off what you can do?”</p><p>“Perhaps?” Mycroft answered, wincing at the uncertainty in his voice.</p><p>“What for?” Gregory asked.</p><p>“What for?” Mycroft repeated.</p><p>“What for,” Gregory confirmed. “What’s your motive?”</p><p>“Are you asking, Detective Inspector?”</p><p>“I am,” Gregory replied, and something new flickered behind his eyes.</p><p>“As I said, I find myself fascinated,” Mycroft said. He had never repeated himself so often as in this conversation. He cleared his throat, lowering his eyes. There was no way he’d be able to hold Gregory’s eyes as he continued. “I seek only to maintain a connection, in whatever capacity you might consent to allow.”</p><p>There was no sound; Mycroft had no idea how Gregory was reacting. When factoring in the benefits of watching Gregory he had entirely forgotten that a door once opened might be stepped through in either direction. He frowned a little. That was rather florid for him – was it a quote from somewhere?</p><p>Mycroft didn’t realise he’d turned so far inward until something brushed his fingers. His hand twitched until his focus settled on the sight of Gregory’s hand resting on his.</p><p>The seconds in which he stared again dragged out, willing his brain to come up with an explanation that made sense.</p><p>“Gregory?” he asked. It wasn’t until he’d spoken Mycroft realised he’d used Gregory’s name.</p><p>“You called me Gregory.”</p><p>“I apologise,” Mycroft murmured.</p><p>“Don’t,” Gregory said with a grin. His fingers curled a little around Mycroft’s hand. “I’ve been wanting you to do that for a long time.”</p><p>“You have?” Mycroft asked.</p><p>Gregory nodded. His eyes dropped to Mycroft’s lips and for a breathless second Mycroft thought he wavered forward. Time stretched like warm caramel until their eyes met again. Warm amusement bathed Mycroft as he drank in the emotion pouring from Gregory.</p><p>
  <em>Oh my…</em>
</p><p>“Something you should know about me,” Gregory said, “is that I’m terrible at making the first move.”</p><p> Mycroft nodded, not trusting himself to speak.</p><p>“So correct me if I’m wrong,” Gregory said, but instead of speaking he cleared his throat.</p><p>Mycroft willed him to continue. When he didn’t, despair tugged at Mycroft but he refused to be pulled down. Instead he grasped at his own courage, taking his free hand and covering Gregory’s with his own.</p><p>“Correct me if I’m wrong,” Gregory continued, his fingers clenching as he drew a deep breath, “but I think you might be interested in a more…personal relationship than you’ve actually said.” He winced. “That didn’t come out right. What I meant was, I think you might have been trying to…” he hesitated.</p><p>“The word itself is ridiculous,” Mycroft murmured, “but I believe ‘woo’ is accurate.”</p><p>“Woo?” Gregory repeated, and it sounded so ridiculous they both chuckled. The heavy atmosphere lifted, and Mycroft felt his shoulders relax.</p><p>“Seduce is perhaps inaccurate,” Mycroft continued, encouraged by their connection, “and perhaps impress might be closer to the truth.”</p><p>Gregory nodded. “Impress with the potential to date?” he asked tentatively.</p><p>Mycroft hesitated. “I never considered it so far ahead,” he said. “However…yes.”</p><p>“Me too,” Gregory admitted. “I did think that far ahead, though.” He shrugged, colour rushing up his neck. “I told you, I’m not great with the first move.”</p><p>“Oh,” Mycroft whispered. “I didn’t realise…I wouldn’t have ever thought…”</p><p>Gregory shrugged, easing closer in a casual move that sent Mycroft’s pulse skyrocketing. “I can tell,” Gregory said. “Please don’t take that…I mean, I get the impression you haven’t dated a lot of people.”</p><p>“No,” Mycroft replied. “I have not.”</p><p>“Well,” Gregory said, “the first bit is the hardest. Working out if someone is interested. And letting them know you’re interested, but not so interested that it gets weird if they don’t feel the same.”</p><p>Mycroft stared. “Remarkable,” he murmured. “I agree entirely,” he said in answer to Gregory’s unasked question. “A problem with which I have been struggling recently.”</p><p>Gregory smiled. “I think we can both agree we’d be interested in…being woo’d,” he said, the last word barely making it out before he started chuckling again.</p><p>“Yes,” Mycroft said, rolling his eyes but unable to stop his mouth from turning up at the ends. Why was his heart beating so fast? And if his hands weren’t pressed to Gregory’s they would surely be shaking. This was the optimal outcome, though he hadn’t dared consider it a realistic possibility.</p><p>“And if that’s the case,” Gregory said, his fingers tightening in Mycroft’s, “I might even have a go at making the first move.”</p><p>Before Mycroft could ask what Gregory meant – surely they’d come to an accord regarding their mutual desire to begin dating? – Gregory’s eyes dropped to his mouth and he swayed close. Even Mycroft, with his complete lack of experience, understood the unspoken suggestion.</p><p>
  <em>He wants to kiss me.</em>
</p><p>Mycroft blinked. Surely not?</p><p>“Forgive me,” Mycroft murmured, “and the inevitable embarrassment such a crass question is sure to cause.” He drew a breath and forced himself to meet Gregory’s eyes, wide with apprehension. “Am I correct in saying you intend to kiss me?”</p><p>The apprehension melted away. “I’d like to,” Gregory said quietly. “If that’s something you’d be okay with?”</p><p>Mycroft swallowed. “I don’t...recall the last time such a moment occurred,” he admitted. “But I would like to, very much.”</p><p>Gregory smiled. “In that case,” he said, and this time he leaned with intention, taking his free hand to trace the shape of Mycroft’s jaw, guiding him to tilt his head before pausing, allowing Mycroft to close the last of the gap in his own time.</p><p>From somewhere, Einstein’s theory of relativity rose again. Clearly it was a miniscule amount of time between Gregory speaking and their lips meeting, but it passed in slow motion, every millisecond drawn out to be examined at a later date. The kiss was chaste, just a press of lips, yet Mycroft felt himself melt into the feel of it. The promise of something vague yet exciting in the future suspended all his awareness of the rest of the world and when they finally parted Mycroft could not have said if seconds or minutes had passed.</p><p>He had the distinct impression relativity would be far more present in his mind in the coming weeks and months.</p><p>Gregory seemed to have that effect on him, playing with Mycroft's experience of time passing.</p><p>Einstein would not be surprised, of course.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>The quote about stepping through a door in either direction is from The Doctor Who episode 'The Girl In The Fireplace'.</p><p>Here is a link about <a href="http://www.blog.suomi-holiday.fi/7.php#:~:text=Traditional%20Finnish%20fish%20dish%20%2D%20Loimulohi,cooking%20while%20enjoying%20the%20outdoors">Finnish smoked fish</a></p><p>Moomin is an adorable creature (family? Race of creatures? I’m unclear about the specifics), but he’s been a part of Finnish children’s culture for decades. Greg’s father would have been about the right age to have received <a href="https://www.moomin.com/en/books/">one of the original books</a> as a child.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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